


Before, During, After

by anr



Category: Doom (2005)
Genre: F/M, Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-25
Updated: 2011-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-28 03:03:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anr/pseuds/anr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is sitting on her bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before, During, After

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aj (aj2245)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aj2245/gifts).



> Request: Samantha before/during/after the movie.

  
**I**.  


 

When she gets back to her room after her last class for the day, John is sitting on her bed.

"John!" she says, surprised, as she shuts the door behind her and dumps her university datapads on the desk under her window. "What are you doing here? I thought you had that molecular genetics essay due tomo--"

"Sam."

"Hmm?" Looking over, she watches as he stands up slowly. His hands, she realises, are making tiny little fists, over and over again, and he only does that when -- "John?" she asks, suddenly afraid. "What --"

When he tells her, when he says the words, when he doesn't take them _back_ , after, she doesn't stagger or drop or fall. She doesn't move at all, really.

He catches her anyway.

  


* * *

  


They lie on the floor underneath her bed, the bedcovers draping down to the carpet and the room lighting off. It's the way they used to sleep -- when they were little and still living with Mom and Dad on Olduvai, years away from their lives here on Earth at university; when they were young and scared of the dark, of the monsters hiding in their closets -- and his arms feel the same around her.

Strong, warm, safe.

"Tell me it's a mistake," she whispers, begs, pleads, "tell me the Corporation got it wrong. _Tell me_!"

He doesn't. His legs tangle with hers as he pulls her even closer. His mouth brushes over her hairline, once, twice.

"Sam," he whispers.

Burying her face into the crook of his neck, she breathes in deep, one breath, two. She can feel his heart beating, can feel her own beating with his.

"John," she says, brokenly.

  


* * *

  


When she kisses him, she tastes the salt of their tears. When he kisses her back, she feels the tight grip of his fingers around hers.

He slides into her slow and shallow, his hips just barely fitting against hers, and her breath catches. It feels like nothing she could have ever imagined, to have him so close, to have him around her and inside of her and so very much closer than ever before, and she hitches her leg over his so that he falls into her even deeper.

His fingers tighten around hers to the point where she knows she'll bruise, after, and she comes just like that, not moving, not breathing, just connected and whole and surrounded by his touch.

 _Mommy_ , she thinks then. _Daddy_.

She catches him as he comes and feels her heart break neatly in two.

  


* * *

  


  
**II**.  


 

While she downloads the next dataset, she studies his reflection in her monitor.

He looks tired. He looks like he did, that night, under her bed. He looks like her dreams.

"So," she forces herself to say, lightly, glancing over her shoulder. "Wife? Kids?"

His gaze finds hers, his eyes dark and deep as he stares back at her. Her breath catches.

"No," he says, shortly.

His hands, she notices, are clenched around his gun, his fingers tight and --

She remembers that grip.

She turns back to her terminal.

  


* * *

  


They lost their parents to this planet. And she's devoted her career to solving its mysteries because there is something here worth knowing, she knows. Worth understanding. But she won't let it have her brother, too. Not now.

Not ever.

While he heals, his hands make little fists by his sides.

  


* * *

  


  
**III**.  


 

The hospital releases her after several days, the swelling around her spine (from the fall she took when Sergeant Mahonin threw her across the room) having gone down the previous day. John isn't with her -- the Marines sequestered him the moment they reached the surface -- and she has no idea when he will be. She tells herself she's not worried about him, and is only somewhat convinced.

As she steps outside into the hot Nevada air, she can see the UAC facility, still raised and silhouetted against the horizon.

Turning, she walks in the other direction.

  


* * *

  


She's spent the last four years permanently based in Olduvai, so she checks into a hotel for the night. If she hasn't heard from John by the morning, she decides, she'll start making some calls, make sure he's okay. For now, though, for now she wants a shower, and something to eat, and a good night's sleep.

She orders room service once she's in her room, and gets into the shower while she's waiting for it. The water, hot and needle-like, feels wonderful on her skin, feels like it's scouring the last week from her mind as well as her body.

When she gets out, a room service tray is sitting on the table by the door and John's sitting on her bed.

"Oh," she manages.

He's up from the bed and standing in front of her, his movements quick and fast, and his hands heavy on her shoulders, before she can say anything else.

  


* * *

  


He examines the bruises on her back and hips, his fingers light on her skin. His touch tickles and she shivers.

"Sorry," he mutters.

"Are you okay?" she asks, fisting her hands in the towel she's still holding against her chest. "What did they --"

"I didn't tell them anything. Not about the chromosome twenty-four." John wraps his hands around her hips and just holds her. "You should have taken some yourself."

She shakes her head. "S'fine. Few bruises, few scrapes." She's cut herself worse on broken specimen slides in the lab. "I'll live."

"You should have taken some for yourself," he repeats.

When she turns around, when her towel falls, he catches her.

  


* * *

  


On the carpet beside her hotel bed, the bed-sheets pulled down and over them, John shifts slowly beneath her.

Lacing her fingers with his, she pulls him in close.

Closer.

Their bodies fit together like they're meant to. She breathes with him and feels her every sense come alive.

 _John_ , she thinks.

She moves above him slowly, softly. He kisses her and her skin tightens and her back arches, bruises flaring. She feels _alive_ like this, here, with him, their heartbeats like one. Feels like she could face any truth, any thing, with him inside of her.

"Sam," he manages.

When he comes, she catches him.

  


* * *

  


At dawn, he sleeps.

She wonders how long it will take the Corporation to fix the ARK.

  


* * *

  


The End

**Author's Note:**

> ORIGINAL URL: <http://anr.livejournal.com/487617.html>


End file.
